


A Song Of Fate

by ashtraythief



Series: masquerade fills [15]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mythology - Freeform, Outdoor Sex, Prophecy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: You want to know your fate, Jared Ironfist? It’s not here. And if you search for it, you will never find it.After being born into a life of battle and losing one too many friends in a fight, Jared sought the solitude of a remote island. One day a storm brings a pirate ship to his shores, and when Jared sees their prisoner, he knows that his fate has found him.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: masquerade fills [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1131689
Comments: 44
Kudos: 246
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	A Song Of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/gifts).



> Written for this excellent prompt in the sixth round of the Supernatural Masquerade prompt fest in livejournal: _Jared is a Norse demigod living alone on a remote isle. A ship arrived with soldiers and their conquered prisoners, Jensen among them. As soon as Jared sets eyes on Jensen, he knows the man is meant for him, but getting him away from his captors will be bloody. Perfect._
> 
> Many, many thanks to ilikaicalie and masja_17 for betaing!

Jared’s been alone for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he chose to be out here. Imglin is a small island, home only to birds and small mammals, the pigs and the cow he keeps.

When Jared was born, no one thought he’d ever become a farmer. Odin had come to his mother during the winter solstice and given her a son. But after years on the battlefield, after heroic feat after heroic feat, all in honor of his father Odin, after his friends and comrades died one by one, taken by a blade or by dysentery, after almost two decades filled with war and song, Jared craved peace.

He’d buried his last friend, watched the flames take a beloved companion for the hundredth time, and it was enough. Jared left.

He bought a small boat from a fisherman and let the ocean and the wind guide him. He found Imglin. It wasn’t easy, the first year. The silence, the work, the loneliness. But Jared finally found peace.

The island around him didn’t change. He didn’t change. He lost track of time, lost count of the years, but he doesn’t care.

He’s been alone for many years. And he likes it that way.

But his eyes fall onto his weapons hanging on the walls more and more, searching the horizon, for what he doesn’t know.

He lights a fire, makes a sacrifice, and prays.

“Is it time for me to leave? Are you sending me this restlessness because you have a purpose for me?”

No one answers. No one ever answers. If it weren’t for Jared’s strength, his skill, and his endurance, he’s not sure he’d even believe in the gods.

With a sigh, Jared looks to the weapons on the wall. His swords, his spears, his ax. And the weapons of his fallen friends. Chad’s spear is the most ornate, all sorts of dirty pictures engraved into the long shaft. _Every one of my conquests, immortalized on my weapon_ , he’d say with a wink.

Jared lets out a laugh. He knows Chad is drinking and feasting in Valhalla, probably shaking his head at his sad friend. But Jared isn’t ready to go back. His fingers itch for a weapon, his eyes restlessly scan the horizon, but he does not want to leave. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t know, not until days later, that he’s been waiting for what’s to come.

A storm hits the island. Jared walks the beach after the wind and the rain has cleared, looking for jetsam, when he hears the song. He can’t make out the words, but he recognizes the melody the deep voice carries. In the stories, the sirens in the waters are always women, but maybe they know what he likes.

The song is a slow lament, singing of the dark winter lands before the arrival of spring. Jared follows the voice to the peak of the next sand dune when the song abruptly cuts off.

Jared looks down into the bay stretching out before him and spots a boat. It’s a small pirate ship, maybe holding a crew of fifteen or twenty men. He doesn’t recognize the colors they’re sailing under. He wonders if one of the pirates sang or if the ocean called him here.

The men have already disembarked, a rough bunch, armed to the teeth. So the fight has finally found him again.

Jared wonders whether they came looking for him, to challenge him or to recruit him. There seems to be a commotion, the groups of pirates forming a semi-circle around a man whose hands are chained together. Under his dark coat, the man is wearing a green tunic with silver embroidery, much too colorful for a pirate, but exactly what a bard would wear. He must be the one who was singing.

The prisoner stands tall and proud while the pirates shout at him. He’s broad-shouldered and his short, dark blond hair tousles in the wind. There’s something about him that gives Jared pause. Bravery in the face of almost certain doom. Jared respects that. The pirate leader approaches the prisoner and pushes at him, but the prisoner only adjusts his stance, does not go down. The leader punches him in the face. The prisoner jerks his head back so quickly that the fist only grazes him. Outraged, the leader yanks the chain, makes the prisoner stumble and fall to his knees. The pirates yell and hoot and whistle and when the leader grabs his crotch in an unmistakable gesture, Jared knows what’s going to happen.

Not on his watch.

He didn’t bring any of his weapons, but it doesn’t matter. They have plenty he can take.

He walks down towards the group. It takes the men an embarrassing length of time, but they spot him eventually and let go of the prisoner.

“Who are you?” the leader demands. He speaks in the snooty accent of the western islands. He’s neither particularly tall, nor particular muscled, and his features are handsome in a forgettable way, but there’s something in the way he moves that speaks to years of experience and an awareness of his surroundings. A worthy opponent.

Jared spreads his arms. “I am the lord of this island and all who come here owe me tribute.”

“I am David, lord of the islands of Haydn and Jones.” David spits in the sand before him. “And I’m not going to pay tribute to one man who claims to be the lord of a godforsaken island. And is unarmed.”

Jared smirks and walks closer. “I don’t need weapons. I am Jared Ironfist.”

A murmur goes through the group of pirates. The prisoner turns his head around to look at Jared.

The world stops. The prisoner is looking at Jared with big eyes green like grass. Even under the dirt on his face, Jared can make out the golden dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose. There’s a cut on his forehead, and a smear of blood runs along his brow.

_You want to know your fate, Ironfist? It’s not here. And if you search for it, you will never find it. Wrapped in chains, covered in blood, Ironfist. I can almost smell the grass, feel the sun. Surrounded by death. Aye, Ironfist, your fate will come surrounded by the dead. And finally, you will be able to restore life. You were born to kill, Ironfist. And it will consume you. Eat you from the inside out until you’re nothing but an empty shell. But if you find your fate, you’ll become a peace bringer. Who knows, you might even find peace yourself._

Jared hasn’t thought of the seer in years. They all spout cryptic nonsense that can mean nothing and anything. Or so he thought. Ruth hadn’t been wrong about death trying to consume him and he’d retreated to the island before he was eaten up by despair and rage. But it seems Ruth has been right about the rest as well. Because this man, bound in chains, covered in blood, surrounded by a group of men who will be dead in a matter of moments, he is Jared’s fate. Jared knows.

When David approaches him, Jared is snapped out of his memories.

“Ironfist. We thought you had left this world.”

Jared raises his shoulders. “Every man deserves peace at one point or another in his life, don’t you think? I gave enough to the world.”

“Aye, you did,” David says and inclines his head. “The tales of your feats used to entertain us during many long, dark winter nights. When I was a young boy.” David eyes Jared skeptically. David seems to be of middle age, the same as Jared appears. But Jared has not aged since he came to this island. “Time has been kind to you. Name your tribute then, Ironfist.”

Jared points to the prisoner. “Him.”

The prisoner tilts his head, regards Jared with calm curiosity.

David stops dead in his tracks. “No. He is _mine_.”

“Not anymore,” Jared says coldly.

“I chased him for years!”

Jared is curious about the story, wants to know all about the green-eyed man, but he has no interest in hearing it from David.

“I don’t care. He is my fate. Give him to me or die.”

David looks around at his men whose expressions vary from hesitant to scornful. It seems after leaving the world for so many years, people have stopped believing in his stories.

David raises his sword. “The Lord of the Two Isles bows to no one and I take what I want.”

Jared looks at the prisoner. The prisoner’s full lips slowly pull up into a smirk, a challenge lurking in the corners of his eyes. _Go on_ , they say, _show me what you’ve got_.

“Then I will take your blood,” Jared says to David.

David snarls and waves three men forward to attack Jared. He ducks the first man’s swing, evades the second and grips the third’s arm, twists and when the man screams and goes down, Jared grips his weapon. It is by far the longest sword out of the three and Jared wants a weapon to match his size.

The men who are still armed run at him again, but with steel in his hand, he makes quick work of them. Then he turns to David and the other men.

“Give me your prisoner or none of you will leave this island.”

David regards him coldly. “I guess our swords will decide that.”

Jared grins. His heart is pounding in anticipation of the battle. It has been too long.

“Give it your best shot then.”

They run at him, all at once. But there are only so many men who can engage him at the same time when everyone is swinging swords and axes. Jared ducks and spins, parries and attacks. The men around him grunt and scream, stumble and fall. Blood splatters through the air, hits Jared’s neck and cheek and he carelessly wipes it away.

A man so tall he towers over Jared’s considerable height attacks his with an ax. But Jared is quicker. He jumps to the side and when the man raises his weapon again, Jared rushes forward and buries his sword in the man’s chest. While he stumbles and falls, Jared grips his ax and faces the rest of his attackers with two weapons.

David doesn’t join the fight until five of his men have fallen. It’s cowardly and callous. A leader should lead the charge and fight with his men. David probably hoped to study Jared’s moves, to let him tire himself out. But Jared doesn’t tire, not this quickly.

“You claim to be a lord?” Jared shouts at him. “Then stop hiding behind your men like a scared little babe clinging to his mother’s skirts.”

He sees one of the pirates flinch, another steps back.

“Little baby Davey, just has got no brav’ry, lets his men do all the fighting, lest they see him badly crying,” the prisoner sings, bastardizing the words of a children’s rhyme. He’s smirking at David. “In feeeeeeeeear,” he adds, drawing out the word in a deep, dramatic vibration.

David’s mouth presses into a thin line. He knows he needs to fight now, otherwise he’ll lose his men’s respect. He points his sword at the prisoner. “Save your breath for when I’ll make you sing for me, Jensen.”

“Not even in your dreams, coward,” the prisoner shoots back.

David ignores him and turns to Jared. “I am no coward,” he bites out and raises his sword.

“Then at least you have a chance of dining in Valhalla tonight,” Jared says. “Though I doubt they’ll give you a warm welcome.”

David yells in rage and charges at Jared. Jared meets his attack head-on, the swords clanging loudly. David can’t withstand Jared’s strength, needs to draw back and regroup, but Jared follows him mercilessly, swinging his sword in tight half-circles. This man deserves no grace, no mercy. Their swords clash again and this time when David withdraws, he kicks sand into Jared’s eyes.

Jared growls, blinks through the pain, and focuses on his hearing. David’s trying to take advantage, but Jared parries his blow, hilts catching, yanks his sword upwards, exposing David’s belly. Jared twists his sword, angling it downwards and drives it deep into David’s stomach. David groans, eyes widening in shock. Jared pulls his sword back and David falls to the ground, blood pooling around his body. He’ll be dead in moments.

When Jared looks up, the men around him have put down their swords and knelt.

The prisoner is singing quietly and this time it’s a song Jared doesn’t know, but the words tell the story of a fearsome warrior drenched in blood, who slew the mighty boar with the four tusks. It was one of Jared’s last adventures. So, they do still remember his feats.

In victory, Jared raises his sword above his head.

“Ironfist,” one of the men says reverently.

“Ironfist,” another echoes.

The rest of the men join in until their voices swell to a chorus, chanting Jared’s name over and over again. The prisoner doesn’t join them, but he looks at Jared with a bright and pleased smile. It’s the most beautiful thing Jared’s ever seen.

He lowers his arm, cutting his sword sharply through the air. The men fall silent.

“I will not make you pay for the cowardice of your leader,” Jared says. “Return to your boat. Leave, and you’ll be cowards like him. Still be here tomorrow and I will sail with you as your leader.”

The men look at each other, then they nod and stand. They collect their dead and injured, all except for David.

“Bury him too,” Jared says, before he turns to the prisoner. “And bring me his key.”

Two men pick up David’s body, and another hands Jared the key. The prisoner’s already standing, hands stretched out imperiously.

“Jensen,” Jared says slowly, remembering what David had called him, while he unlocks Jensen’s chains.

Jensen nods.

“Is there more?”

“Does there need to be more?” Jensen asks.

He wants to know if Jared will search for the reasons David has taken him. Jensen is beautiful, but Jared knows that can’t be the only reason David chased him.

Jared shakes his head.

“Hm.” Jensen cocks his head, slowly steps closer. Jared could count the freckles on his nose. “I’ve heard so many songs about you and your feats, I was sure they must be made up.” His green eyes appreciatively roam over Jared and he licks his lips. “Seems they were all true.”

“The one about the draugr horde is slightly exaggerated,” Jared says, eyes fixed on Jensen’s full, shiny lips.

“Nevertheless. A victorious warrior deserves a reward.” Jensen puts one hand flat on Jared’s chest, right above his heart. The tips of his fingers brush Jared’s naked skin where his shirt’s laces are loose at his throat. The simple touch sends heat through his entire body. “You claimed me as yours, Ironfist. What is it that you want from me?”

“Everything.” Jared’s voice comes out rough. He swallows, tries to find his equilibrium, but he knows, this man is his. His fate. “You’re everything.”

Jensen nods as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “Take me then.”

For a moment, Jared can only stare. Jensen snorts, rises up on his toes and kisses Jared. His warm soft lips are a shock to Jared’s body. His arms wrap around Jensen’s lithe but strong form, drawing him tight against Jared’s chest. Jensen makes a satisfied noise and his hands grip Jared’s shoulders, one of them moving to the nape of his neck and into his long hair.

Jared kisses him deeply, and Jensen opens eagerly for him, his tongue greeting Jared’s. Jared’s still feeling the high of the victory and now his dick hardens quickly, and Jensen’s mouth and hands make his head spin. Jensen keeps dragging a hand through Jared’s hair, short fingernails deliciously scratching at the nape of Jared’s neck. Jensen’s other hand snakes between their bodies, reaches down for Jared’s cock and presses against it through Jared’s leather pants.

Heat courses through Jared’s veins and he grips Jensen’s ass tighter, leans in closer and bites a line of marks down Jensen’s neck, feels his pulse hammer at the bottom of his throat.

“Yes, fuck.” Jensen’s voice is rough and strained and Jared wants to hear him shout his name. “Take everything.”

There is no way Jared can resist that. He grips Jensen’s thighs and lifts him. Jensen comes willingly, wraps his legs around Jared. Jared carries him away from the sandy beach and towards the high grass. There are patches of moss there that will make for a better surface than the cold sand.

It’s too chilly to undress completely, but Jared needs to have Jensen now. He gets down on his knees, holding Jensen tight and then spreads Jensen’s coat out on the ground and carefully beds him down on it. All of Jensen’s clothes are meticulously made, if not the finest material, but they’re clearly picked with care.

Jensen snorts and roughly pulls Jared down between his spread legs. “I’m not going to break, Ironfist.”

Jared grumbles at the name. “Call me Jared.”

“Fine, _Jared_.”

Jared should be annoyed at the disrespect, but he finds Jensen’s impudence endearing. He’s not afraid, hasn’t been of David, and isn’t now of Jared who is known in his songs as a demigod who walked the earth and killed every foe.

Roughly, Jared reaches for Jensen’s face, traces the contours of his jaw, the softness of his mouth. “Who _are_ you?”

With a quick turn of his head, Jensen catches Jared’s thumb with his mouth, short pressure and wet heat before he pulls back again, eyebrows raised. “You want my life story now?”

“I told you, I want everything.”

Jensen surges up to kiss him. “And you’ll get it. But let’s stick to a sensible order of events here.”

Jared has to laugh, but it turns into a moan when Jensen turns his head to mouth at Jared’s neck and his hands fiddle with the opening of Jared’s pants, brushing against his hard dick and making him jerk. Jared lets himself fall down on Jensen, needs the full-body contact. Jensen raises his hips in greeting, rubbing their dicks together before he resumes his effort of getting Jared out of his pants.

Jared still has so many questions about this man, but right now there’s a fire raging inside of him that only one thing can sate.

He pushes Jensen’s tunic up, gets his hands on soft skin over hard muscles and keeps grinding his hips down. He wants Jensen naked, wants everything, wants to take him in every way imaginable, but they’re out at the fucking beach and Jared’s not a complete heathen. Jensen deserves a roaring fireplace and fine sheets, but in their absence, Jared will at least offer his own hearth and bed.

Jensen’s hands keep working on Jared’s clothes, tearing open his shirt until the lacing is all the way undone to his lower ribs and his pants are open. Jensen’s hand wraps surely around Jared’s dick and he groans into Jensen’s throat.

“Fuck, yeah. Gods, please, fuck me.”

Jared grinds his teeth. “My house—”

“Your _house_? We’re not moving now, are you insane?” Jensen’s grip around him tightens and he kisses Jared, sucking on his bottom lip. Jared pulls back, takes in the flush on Jensen's cheeks, his dark pupils eating up the green of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah. Okay, yes. But I can’t —”

Jensen’s hand around his dick twists and Jared needs to close his eyes for a second. “I’m going to try not to hurt you, but I can’t promise...”

“Oh.” Jensen’s eyes widen. He lets go of Jared to reach for the satchel fastened to his belt. He retrieves a small vial of oil. “He smashed my lute, but I kept the oil.”

Jared kisses him fervently. “I’ll get you a new lute.”

Jensen laughs, loud and wild and Jared kisses him, again and again, finally gets Jensen’s pants open and Jensen arches into his hand so beautifully. Enraptured, Jared watches his face twist in pleasure as Jensen slowly jerks his dick.

“Gods, please. Jared, come on!” Jensen bites his lips, reddening them even more.

Jared pushes himself up on hands and knees. “Turn around.” He doesn’t want to stop kissing Jensen but if they don’t undress, there’s really no other way.

Jensen goes willingly, turns over onto all fours, already pushing his ass up. Jared reaches for his pants and roughly pulls them over his ass and down to his knees. Jensen’s ass is perfectly round, with skin so light it’s almost white and Gods save him, decorated with smatterings of golden freckles.

Jared dives down to kiss them, bite them, before he moves lower, spreads Jensen open with his hands and then licks over his opening.

Jensen draws in a surprised gasp and falls down onto his elbows. He grinds back against Jared, a litany of curses falling from his mouth. Some day, Jared is going to make him come from this alone. For now, he takes the oil, fiddles with the vial and just pours the entire bottle over his hand. He rubs his fingers over Jensen’s tightly furled hole and Jensen pushes back impatiently.

“Come on, take me.”

Jared pushes two fingers into Jensen and fuck, but he’s so tight. Jensen moans and Jared keeps opening him up, eyes torn back and forth between his fingers disappearing into Jensen’s body and the tense line of Jensen's shoulder. Jensen’s so responsive, moaning at every twist and drag of Jared's fingers until he finally hits that magical spot that makes Jensen scream.

He keeps sliding his fingers over the spot while slicking his other hand up in the oil smeared around Jensen’s ass so he can slick up his own dick.

“No, Gods, stop, I want—” Jensen sucks in a deep breath. “Wanna come with you inside me, come on, give me your dick. Fuck me, Ironfist.”

Jared growls at his title but withdraws his fingers and then lines up his dick. Slowly, he pushes inside, feels Jensen’s rim tense and then stretch, pulling him all the way inside. Jared can’t stop, slams home and Jensen screams. And this time, he screams Jared’s name.

A dark satisfaction spreads through Jared, not unlike the rush of victory and he starts fucking Jensen, deep and fast, chasing the heat and the tightness of his body that’s surrounding Jared’s cock like a vice.

He’s panting more quickly than at any point during the fight, and sweat gathers at his hairline, cooled by the ocean breeze. He rubs his hands up and down Jensen’s back, doesn’t want him to get cold, but Jensen’s hot to the touch, everywhere Jared’s hands reach.

“Please, Jared, I need—” Jensen’s voice is strained and raw, his plea so open, it tugs at something deep inside of Jared’s chest. They’re strangers, met only hours ago, and yet, Jensen’s giving himself to Jared so completely.

It makes Jared’s head spin, makes him push in harder and deeper, makes him chase the victory again. He reaches around Jensen and takes his leaking cock in his hand. Jensen moans and pushes even closer to Jared, spreading his legs as far as his pants will allow him.

“That’s it, beautiful, fuck, come for me.”

“Yeah, so close, just, more, need more.”

Jared leans forward, blankets Jensen’s back with his body, and fastens his mouth to his neck. He kisses and bites, tastes the salt on Jensen’s skin and with a garbled noise that could be Jared’s name, Jensen tenses around him. Jared strokes him through it, revels in Jensen’s body gripping him so tight, his dick spending in his hand and Jensen’s harsh breathing.

But Jensen still pushes back onto him. “Come on. Want you.”

Jared groans and pulls himself up again. He grips Jensen’s hips tightly and then he slams into him, over and over, lets go and chases his own pleasure. And Jensen's filthy mouth talks him through it. Jared can’t process the words anymore, but Jensen’s hoarse voice is like music in his ears. His entire body locks up in pleasure when he comes deep inside of Jensen, fills him up, claiming him as his own. Jared collapses forward, barely manages to brace himself on his hands so he doesn't squish Jensen into the ground.

When he becomes aware of his surroundings, he’s mindlessly mouthing at Jensen’s neck. Jensen’s craning his head around to look at him.

“Hey.” His voice is fucked out, and it sends another flash of heat through Jared. But not now.

Reluctantly, Jared pulls out. Jensen’s flinch is barely visible and he tries to hide it. Jared lets him have the illusion, but he’s still careful when he pulls them both down on Jensen’s coat and uses his own coat to cover Jensen.

Jensen turns on his back and they refasten their clothes. Then Jared props himself up on his side, looking down at Jensen lying on his back, the expression on his face happy and sated.

“Tell me your story,” Jared says and takes Jensen’s hands. “What did David want with you?”

Jensen sighs and looks up at the sky, but he rubs his thumb over Jared’s hand.

“My family was ousted from power years ago when I was still a child. But our magician locked the doors to our castle with blood. Only the blood of our family can unlock it and I am the last one.”

That was not at all what Jared had expected. He’d thought Jensen’s cockiness came from years on the road as a bard maybe, but if he was royalty...

“David wanted you to rule the land.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Warlords have fought over the land for years, there’s not a lot of anything left. Just the people and their suffering. David just wanted the treasures of the castle.”

“And you,” Jared adds, trying not to think of David pushing Jensen to his knees. He’s already dead, Jared can’t kill him again.

Jensen inclines his head. “And me.”

“Hm.” David only captured Jensen recently, but he said his family was ousted a long time ago. Jared wonders what happened to Jensen between then and now.

“So what did you do? After your family…”

“A group of traveling musicians saved me,” Jensen says, fondness in his voice. “They raised me and taught me their trade so I could survive out there.”

Jared smiles. So he was right about Jensen living as a cocky bard on the road. But it wouldn’t have protected him from David.

“So he caught you.”

Jensen shoots him a glare. “No. I _let_ him find me.”

“Why?”

“When I was a young boy, a seer told me that I would only find my fate in captivity. That I’d be freed by death, saved by war.” Jensen pulls a grimace. “Being on the run didn’t do me or my people any favors and there was no way I could build an alliance to take back my kingdom with nothing but the clothes on my back and an old, battered lute. So I thought, well, maybe the seer had a point.” Jensen laughs. “When David took me, I started to doubt her, especially when we landed here and he decided to use the opportunity to break my spirit.” Jensen’s nose scrunches up in disgust, and Jared starts to regret that he killed David so quickly. “But then you strolled down the hill.” Jensen laughs again and the sound warms Jared’s heart. “No weapons, just one guy, but I thought maybe the seer was right after all.”

Jared pulls him in tighter. “Any chance the seer was a redheaded woman?”

Jensen looks at him with wide eyes. “Yeah. Ruth, the witch.”

“What else did she say?” Jared asks.

“That my love would bring first war, then peace to my people,” Jensen says. His voice is strong, without doubt.

_But if you find your fate, you’ll become a peace bringer. Who knows, you might even find peace yourself._

“Hm.” Jared looks at him. “Well, I think I have one more campaign in me before I finally hang up my battle-ax.” He stands and pulls Jensen up with him, then he kneels down before him. “Will you accept my sword and my service, Jensen of the locked castle?”

Jensen nods, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You know, in the old tradition, whosoever saveth my family’s lands shall receive the heir’s hand in marriage.”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“I just said that, didn’t I?”

Jared grins. He stands and pulls Jensen in, kisses him deeply, doesn’t stop until they’re both breathing hard.

“I look forward to my prize then,” Jared says.

Jensen gives him a brilliant smile. “Luckily you already secured us passage off this island and the start of an army.”

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d go to war again,” Jared says.

Jensen purses his lips. “What did Ruth tell you?”

Jared touches a finger to the delicate skin of Jensen’s temple, right next to his eye, then to the bridge of his nose, along his cheekbone. “Grass and sun. Blood and chains.” At some point during Jared’s confrontation with David, Jensen must have cleaned the blood and dirt off his face, there are only faint traces left. Jared kisses the tip of his nose, his forehead, his temple, his lips. “Death. And then peace. Maybe even for myself.”

Jensen’s hands come up to Jared’s face, palms against his cheeks, thumbs tracing his cheeks, his mouth. Slowly, Jensen pulls him in for a soft kiss, lingers, lips pressed against lips, sharing air and life.

“War.” Jensen says hoarsely. “And then peace. For both of us. I promise.”

And Jared believes him. Because this is his fate. And Jared couldn’t wish for anything better.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come find me on tumblr [here](http://ashtraythief.tumblr.com/) and on twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/ashtraythief) My ask box is always open.


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